


My Dearest Darling

by annejumps



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Aftercare, Age Play, BDSM, Belts, Community: kink_bingo, Daddy Kink, Flogging, Impact Play, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Obedience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames thought for a moment. “Well, we already know you have a preference for older men. And I can’t say I haven’t noticed your issues with authority and your residual militaristic behaviors.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Dearest Darling

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [kink_bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) Round 5 for the square _whipping/flogging_. Beta'd by [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/pseuds/anatsuno). Title is from the song of the same name sung by Etta James.

Arthur cleared his throat before he answered Eames’ question. “I want you to beat me with your belt.”

“I’m sorry? Arthur, I must have heard you incorrectly.”

“I was perfectly clear.” Arthur was beet red now and he wasn’t making eye contact.

“You can’t be serious, love.”

“I am very serious.” Arthur folded his arms, frowning, and finally looked at Eames.

“What, as though you’ve been a bad boy and daddy needs to spank you? Really?” Eames said, incredulous.

A new flush stained Arthur’s cheeks. “More or less,” he muttered, looking away again. “Look, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, I asked what you wanted,” Eames said, shaking his head, starting to feel contrite. Arthur had gone stiff, his mouth a thin line. “I should be prepared for an answer. I just... didn’t expect that of you.”

“Really?” Arthur said with a roll of his eyes.

Eames thought for a moment. “Well, we already know you have a preference for older men. And I can’t say I haven’t noticed your issues with authority and your residual militaristic behaviors.”

Arthur opened his mouth to protest and then scowled again, rolling over to face away from Eames, who curled around him and kissed his neck in an attempt to placate. “Darling, I apologize. Your desire for approval as it contrasts with your stubbornness is one of my favorite vulnerabilities of yours.”

“I don’t have a desire for approval,” Arthur muttered into his pillow.

“Well, perhaps it’s no longer so overt now that you’ve achieved a certain amount of wild success, but I know, kitten, that you have an innate, strong drive to meet high standards. Once a Marine, always a Marine, after all.”

“Hmph,” Arthur replied, relaxing a little. Eames patted his boxer-clad hip.

“So. You want to make up for your terribly bad behavior by submitting to a well-deserved bare-arsed smacking from your disapproving but loving daddy?”

Arthur squirmed, going pink again. “You don’t have to phrase it like that.”

Unfortunately for Arthur, Eames moved his hand and found that this discussion had gotten Arthur quite hard. “I think I do, pet.”

Arthur sighed as if greatly put-upon, his hand going to cover Eames’.

“Do you want to do it now?” Eames queried, rubbing his palm lightly over Arthur’s erection. “I did wear a belt today.”

“You usually do,” Arthur muttered, and Eames nipped his earlobe.

“Ah, you noticed. If only I’d known what you were thinking all this time. Well, do you want to do it now? It’s early yet.”

“I don’t know, maybe.” He shrugged.

“Arthur, don’t be coy. Let’s do, I won’t be able to think about anything else otherwise.”

“All right, all right.”

Eames started to improvise, mind racing. “Get up, let’s get dressed again. I’ll leave and come in again. Have you given any thought as to what it is you’ve done wrong?”

Arthur started to gather his white undershirt and trousers, looking flustered. “Cheated on a test? Got caught smoking?”

Eames raised his eyebrows, buttoning his shirt. “My wayward schoolboy.”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever indeed. Listen, Arthur, I’d like to think I can tell how much is enough for you but if you absolutely must have me stop, say ‘stop.’ And I won’t use the buckle end, and I won’t hit your kidneys, that sort of thing.”

Arthur nodded. “I trust you,” he said quietly.

Once they were both completely dressed, Eames left the room. When he entered it again, he found Arthur sitting on the bed, hunched, biting his nails and looking both scared and rebellious, perhaps not entirely an act. Regardless, it tugged at Eames’ metaphorical heartstrings. He had a certain amount of protectiveness and possessiveness deep down when it came to Arthur, despite his being a grown man and perfectly capable. It was just that Arthur looked so _young_.

Eames drew himself up as tall as he could and looked sternly at Arthur. “You know what you’ve done, Arthur, and you know you must be punished. I’m very disappointed in you.”

Arthur looked up, wide-eyed, and no one did wide puppy-dog eyes like Arthur. Eames almost actually felt bad.

He continued. “Get on your knees at the side of the bed, take down your trousers and underwear.” Arthur, blinking as if genuinely surprised and nervous, scrambled to obey.

“Face the bed. Put your hands on the back of your head, and don’t move them.”

He heard Arthur’s sharp inhalation at the sound of Eames unbuckling his belt, and saw the sudden tense set to his shoulders when Eames pulled the belt through the loops with a soft whispering sound.

Arthur’s trousers and underwear were pooled on the floor, with his perfect, pale arse and thighs on display. There was nothing, nothing more gorgeous than Arthur on his knees. Eames took a deep breath.

“Ask for it, Arthur.”

Arthur swallowed. “I--” He dipped his head for a moment in frustration, took a deep breath, and then straightened his back. “Punish me.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

Arthur spoke more clearly, although his voice shook slightly. “Will you please give me the punishment I deserve, daddy.”

Eames closed his eyes for a moment, glad Arthur couldn’t see the little shudder that went through him. He waited a beat until he was sure his voice would be steady.

“Sweetheart, I know you want to be good for me. You just need some discipline.”

“Yes,” Arthur breathed. “I do. Please, daddy.”

“Keep still for me, Arthur.”

He took another deep breath and swung the belt. The end struck the swell of Arthur’s arse, and Arthur gasped. Eames waited a beat, then another, and swung again.

Another beat, and again.

Arthur gasped each time, though he tried to stifle it.

At one point, Eames saw his hands move just a bit, as if he wanted desperately to reach back and cover himself. But instead he pressed his palms more tightly to his head.

“Good boy,” Eames said. He caught the slight bow to Arthur’s head.

Experimentally, he struck the backs of Arthur’s thighs. Arthur let out a choked cry. Eames did it again. Arthur’s skin was going a most appealing pink, almost the same shade as his face when he’d said he wanted this.

“Arthur. So good for me,” Eames murmured.

He let the belt connect several more times, at last returning to landing blows on Arthur’s arse. He found what seemed to be the ideal amount of time to pause between strokes: not so short as to overwhelm Arthur, not long enough to let him really recover and prepare himself for the next. Once he saw that Arthur was breathing hard (panting, really) and swaying slightly, he stopped.

“Have you learnt your lesson?” he demanded, voice low.

Arthur nodded fervently, and turned to look at him, pleading. His face was flushed, his eyes wet with unshed tears.

Eames had never loved him more.

“Will you be good for me now?”

Arthur nodded again. “Please, daddy,” he said, voice rough, and Eames in a few spare movements knelt behind him, hand wrapping firmly around his cock, and his other arm around his chest. Arthur gasped and sagged against him. He was harder than Eames had ever seen him, and it only took a few strokes for him to come, panting, beyond words.

Arthur slowly tipped forward to lean on the bed, and Eames cleaned him and his own hand with a Kleenex from Arthur’s nightstand. He kissed the back of Arthur’s neck.

“Get on the bed, my dearest,” Eames murmured, taking Arthur’s trembling hands from his head, wrapping his arms around him briefly, feeling the way he shook. Eames helped him up, and pressed a kiss to his slack mouth.

Once Arthur had flopped onto the bed on his side, Eames stripped him, with utmost care. He took off his own clothes, and laid behind Arthur, wrapping his arms around him again. He kissed his neck, and petted him, his erection pressed against Arthur’s hot, tender skin.

“My good boy,” Eames whispered, “my lovely Arthur.” Arthur made a soft sound in his throat, shivering when Eames nuzzled the skin under his ear.

Arthur’s legs were pressed together, and Eames moved one hand to work his cock between them. Catching on even in his dazed state, Arthur squeezed his inner thighs around him, despite the discomfort this probably caused him considering how red his skin was. Eames closed his eyes and started to thrust. Arthur moved an arm to grasp his hip, not to stop him but just to touch him.

It didn’t take long. He thought of Arthur, so captivating, wanting to be good for him.

He shifted back to finish himself with a few tight strokes of his hand, and watched his come land in thick stripes on Arthur’s pink skin.

Eames pressed his chest to Arthur’s back, inhaling his warm, slightly sweaty scent as he came down. His hands were shaking slightly, and he stroked one down Arthur’s side, in a drowsy but steady rhythm.

Finally, reluctantly, Eames got up. With a whispered “I’ll be right back,” he went to clean up a bit and get a cool damp flannel from the bathroom, and, after some consideration, a bottle of olive oil from the kitchen.

On his return, he gently shifted Arthur onto his stomach and very carefully started to wipe him clean. Arthur sighed, pliant, and almost seemed to fall asleep as Eames worked. With Arthur’s skin cleaned of come and no longer so hot, he dabbed olive oil onto the worst of the welts, and rubbed it in, gentle and careful. He went out briefly again to get Arthur a glass of water and an energy bar, and made sure he consumed both, as out of it and sleepy as he seemed.

That done, Eames shifted Arthur around a bit more and pulled down the covers. Getting under with him, he pulled the sheets back up, feeling a need to protectively wrap around him. Arthur relaxed against him, seemingly basking in the warmth and proximity.

He was a bit surprised that Arthur offered no protest, no insistence that he was fine and could take care of himself, no complaints about smelling of olive oil. Instead, he was quiet, with a dreamy little smile on his flushed face.

\-------

Eames hadn’t intended for them to fall asleep like that for long, but they didn’t wake up until dawn. Arthur, still smelling faintly of olive oil, had tucked himself under Eames’ chin in the night, facing him. He wasn’t particularly clingy while sleepy, but Eames supposed this was a special occasion.

Half-awake, Eames murmured sleepily as Arthur attempted to rouse him with small, lazy kisses to his chest. “Good morning,” Eames said.

Arthur smiled, eyes heavy lidded. “Thank you,” he said simply. “No one’s ever done that for me before.”

“You mean last night?” Perhaps a stupid question, but after all, he had just woken up.

“Yeah.”

“Happy to, pet.” Eames was quiet, thinking about how gorgeous Arthur had been, flushed, trying so hard to be good. Those little sounds he’d made despite his efforts.

Arthur waited, and when he spoke again, he said with affected casualness, “If you, uh, thought that was strange, we don’t have to do that kind of thing again.”

“It was out of the ordinary, but I didn’t mind. Besides, you wanted it.”

“It’s not just about me wanting it,” Arthur said, starting to put on his “explaining things” voice.

“I wouldn’t have kept on if I didn’t enjoy it as well,” Eames pointed out reasonably, shifting to get more comfortable and pulling Arthur closer. “I wanted to do it for you. I do love you, after all.”

Arthur’s ears went pink and he ducked his head. “All right.”

“I quite liked it, really,” Eames went on. “I’ll remember that next time we’re apart and I need a happy thought, won’t I.”

Stretching, and stifling a yawn, Arthur laughed. “I love you too,” he said, and then closed his eyes with a sigh, seemingly ready to drift off again, even though he surely must be hungry and wanting coffee. But Eames couldn’t blame him; it was so nice and warm here.

Eames was quiet again, thinking. “I hope I never meet your father,” he finally said, gravely.

Arthur squeaked and pulled the covers over his head.

Eames continued, musing, “Or if I do, I hope we’ll have long since forgotten about this.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/), [Amy,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asunder) Liz, and Julia for all your help!


End file.
